


Christmas 1978

by nightswatch



Series: A Series of Christmases [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, First War with Voldemort, M/M, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 20:17:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5553884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius is throwing a Christmas party for his friends and copious amounts of Firewhisky are consumed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas 1978

Remus slowly makes his way down the street, the icky grey slush that was once snow soaking through his shoes. Each of his steps is accompanied by a horrid squelching noise. There’s a light drizzle raining down on him that started about five seconds after he stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron and has thankfully not got any worse. Yet. He still has a ten-minute walk ahead of him.

A car passes, water spraying as it drives past. Remus ducks out of the way – not that it matters, because the drizzle is already very slowly soaking through his coat.

He considers apparating, but most houses in Sirius’s neighbourhood have anti-apparition charms in place, so he’d have to aim for the middle of the road, which is really never a good place to suddenly pop up out of nowhere. Remus sighs, wishing he hadn’t left his umbrella at work.

Remus would swing by to get it if he hadn’t been been fired a week ago when his employer figured out the rather specific schedule of his absences from work. Remus did his best to come up with good excuses for why he wasn’t able to come in, but in the end he found it rather hard to explain why he’d returned from a visit to his sick aunt with a nasty black eye.

He’s going to find something else, he tells himself. So far he’s failed spectacularly, especially because he’s not really able to give a reason for why he’s been fired from his last job. He worked for a wizarding bookshop in a small village close to his hometown, but now he thinks that maybe it is time for him to give the big city a try. James and Sirius seem to love it here, at least, and keep inviting him out, keep pestering him about moving here as well.

“I have another spare room, you know,” Sirius constantly reminds him, winks and nudges included, but Remus isn’t sure if he wants to live with Sirius and James. Sirius, especially. It wouldn’t work out. For various reasons.

This morning he met Professor McGonagall for tea, although it was just a guise for her to pass orders on to him, which he then passed on to several other members of the Order in the course of the day.

Molly and Arthur Weasley were his last stop and Molly kept pouring him tea and their second oldest son Charlie kept telling him about his favourite dragons – there’s a drawing of a Hungarian Horntail tucked away in his pocket – and now he’s a bit late for Sirius’ Christmas party.

The street is completely deserted, but Remus keeps looking around warily. One can never be too careful these days. There’s no one lurking in dark corners, though, there’s just fairy lights and decorated windows, and the snow slush on the sidewalk, still squelching, still soaking through his shoes.

It’s not much further now. Remus passes a Muggle phone booth, a smile tugging at his lips. One of Sirius’ neighbours, an elderly wizard who gave them a bottle of his self-made Firewhisky last summer, seems to be throwing a raucous party.

Remus quickly walks up the steps to Sirius’ door and knocks. They’ve all learnt to avoid the doorbell at all costs. Sirius tried to change the screeching to something that sounds more pleasant, however, the screeching only became even more high-picked and prolonged, and is now even more annoying.

At first, Remus suspects that no one inside heard him knocking, but the door is yanked open a moment later and Sirius is beaming at him.

“Moony,” he yells and pulls him inside, then he makes a face. “You’re all wet.”

“It’s raining,” Remus supplies and shrugs off his coat.

Sirius is still grinning and Remus assumes that copious amounts of Firewhisky have already been consumed in his absence. “Squeeze the nose,” Sirius says, very much resembling an overexcited puppy.

“What?”

“The nose,” Sirius repeats and points at his remarkably horrendous Christmas jumper. It has a deer on it that has a big red bobble for a nose. “It’s harmless, I swear.”

Sirius has referred to a good many things as harmless in the past and only about half of them actually were, so Remus, naturally, is a bit sceptical.

“I wouldn’t harm my good old friend Moony, now, would I?”

“Yes, you would,” Remus says, but Sirius is batting his eyes at him and maybe it actually is fun, so he reaches out and gives the reindeer’s nose a tentative squeeze. The reindeer then calls him a tosser and it sounds suspiciously like James.

Sirius is cackling. “Brilliant, isn’t it?”

“I’ve always wanted to be insulted by a jumper,” Remus mutters, rather relieved that the reindeer didn’t try to bite off his hand, and then moves to tie off his shoes.

“That’s great,” Sirius says, “because we have one for you as well.”

Remus doubts that he’ll be walking around asking people to squeeze any part of his jumper, but Sirius is excited and Remus doesn’t want to ruin things for him, so he just smiles.

Sirius smiles back at him, sheepishly, and then peers over his shoulder, which is when Remus realises that there’s tinsel stuck in Sirius’ ponytail. “James and Peter are already here.”

“I figured,” Remus says.

“You said you’d come by _before_ James got back from his parents’.” Sirius makes quite the effort to look cross with him. “What happened?”

“Nothing, I just got side-tracked. I’m sorry.” 

“Well…” Sirius once again looks over his shoulder and then grabs a hold of Remus’ jumper to pull him closer.

“Sirius, what are you–” Remus is silenced by Sirius’ lips on his. He tastes like Firewhisky and… just Firewhisky, really. Sirius’ hands are restless, slipping under his jumper, his fingertips burning against Remus’ skin, and all Remus can think is that this is really not fair, not at all, and that they shouldn’t be doing this when James and Peter are just down the hall.

They’ve talked about telling them several times. _Soon_ , is what they always end up saying. The first time that Remus brought it up, they were still at Hogwarts, squeezed into Sirius’ bed, side by side, the curtains drawn. Peter and James were both off with their respective girlfriends, so Remus and Sirius had the dormitory to themselves. It didn’t happen often enough, Remus thought, that it was just the two of them. “We should tell them,” Remus mumbled into Sirius’ hair.

Sirius hummed and said, “We should. Soon. When the time is right.”

“Yes, when the time is right,” Remus agreed.

So far, the time hasn’t been right yet. So they’re snogging in Sirius’ hallway and their friends could walk in on them any moment and this is not the way Remus has been planning on telling them. He pushes at Sirius, gently, but Sirius doesn’t budge, so Remus lets him have his way, just a little while longer. Then he pushes with a little more resolve.

Sirius looks mightily displeased.

“Later,” Remus whispers. He hears James’ roaring laughter in the living room.

“But I haven’t seen you in _four_ days,” Sirius says, arms folded across his chest.

“I know.” Remus brushed his fingers through his damp hair. He’s been meaning to come over, but at the end of the day he was just too tired after travelling from one wizarding village to the next in hopes of finding a job.

Sirius tilts his head. “So you’re staying the night?”

“Isn’t everyone?” Remus asks.

“Well, yeah,” Sirius says.

“Oi, Sirius,” James shouts, “what’re you two doing out there? Did the doorbell try to eat someone again?”

“No, don’t you worry, Prongs, our dear Moony is still in one piece,” Sirius shouts back. “We’ll be with you in a second.”

“Bring more Firewhisky, Peter and I just finished this one.”

“Fine,” Sirius says. He steals another kiss. “Are you hungry? There’s tons of food left over.”

Remus nods and follows Sirius into the kitchen. The plant that grows out of Sirius’ windowsill is decorated with floating lights and the same tinsel that is also stuck in Sirius’ ponytail. Sirius shovels food onto a plate for Remus and keeps sneaking him glances all the while.

It’s embarrassing how flustered Remus gets, even now that Sirius is literally just looking at him. He shakes his head at himself.

“You’re looking awfully serious, Moony,” Sirius says as he hands over the plate. “Still no luck today?”

“Still no luck,” Remus confirms.

Sirius seems to sense that he’s not too keen on talking about it just now, so he gives Remus ass a good-hearted squeeze that has Remus yelping, picks up a bottle of Firewhisky – there are three more left on the table – and then pushes him toward the living room.

James and Peter greet him enthusiastically and Remus joins them on the floor next to the tree. Before he can even start eating, a jumper is tugged over his head. It has a snowman on it that calls people imbeciles. “We thought it seemed more like your style,” James says, looking utterly pleased with himself.

“How’s your mum?” Peter asks. “She doing any better?”

“She’s all right,” Remus replies. She’s not all right, in truth, but it’s another thing that Remus doesn’t want to talk about, especially not on Christmas Eve. James looks at him with narrowed eyes, like he knows, so Remus firmly stares down at his food and is grateful when James doesn’t say anything about it and demands another glass of Firewhisky from Sirius instead.

They shove a glass at Remus the second he’s finished eating, even though by now they should now that it’s a bit of a waste, since it won’t have the same effect on him as it has on them. He does feel a bit warmer than usual after a few glasses and everything seems a bit funnier than before, but Peter is already slurring his speech, and James is trying to balance a biscuit on his nose, and Sirius’ cheeks are flushed and he blows Remus a kiss when he thinks that no one is looking, except that James and Peter are both very much looking at him.

Remus rolls his eyes at Sirius to play it off as one of those ridiculous things that Sirius does when he’s drunk. It seems to work and his friends quickly get distracted when their conversation turns to the presents shoved under Sirius’ rickety tree.

Sirius got the tree a few weeks ago and has until now refused to tell anyone where he got it from. Remus assumes that he simply stole it from some Muggle’s garden. Maybe a forest. He can’t be sure, but he’s certain that it wasn’t entirely legal. Obviously it’s also not impossible that Sirius likes his actions to be shrouded in mystery and just _pretends_ that something shady went down when he got that tree.

“Are we opening presents now or tomorrow morning?” Peter asks.

“Now,” James says and reaches out, falling over most ungracefully. “Lily’s parents invited me over for tomorrow, so I have to leave early.”

“That’s nice of them,” Remus says.

“Are you kidding? I’m bloody terrified,” James says. He rolls onto his back but remains lying on the floor. “I love this floor. It’s where I belong.”

“But you’ve met them before, haven’t you?” Peter asks.

“Sure, but they’re Muggles. They’re… Muggly.” James sighs deeply. “Not that it’s a bad thing. They’re lovely people, don’t mind the whole wizarding business. Her sister’s a bit weird, but her parents are lovely. Anyway, there’ll be more of her relatives there, like _distant_ relatives. And they don’t know.”

Remus snorts. “You you have to pretend that you’re a Muggle?”

“It’s going to be a disaster,” James whines. “I don’t know how to… Muggle.”

Sirius pokes at him with his foot. “It’s your own fault that you didn’t take Muggle Studies with me.”

“Just don’t say anything to anyone,” Peter suggests.

“You don’t really think that James can keep his mouth shut for a whole day, do you?” Sirius asks, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“I might not be a bad idea to let Lily do the talking, though,” Remus says with a shrug. “Possibly, it would be a good idea to stop drinking soon as well.”

James grumbles something and then pulls at the only present that is within arm’s reach. “Oh look, it’s for Peter,” he says and passes it on. “Someone who’s not as drunk as me should take care of the rest of them.”

Remus is appointed as that someone and starts handing out presents, including the ones he got for his friends. He brought them over a couple of days ago when he came to London to meet one of Dumbledore’s contacts. He didn’t have enough money to buy his friends anything special, something he thought would change once he left school and had a job and an income. Deep down, he’s always suspected that it wouldn’t really be that easy, but part of him hoped that things might turn out all right in the end. It was awfully naïve, he knows that now. 

Sirius lets out a delighted hoot when he unpacks a bottle of what seems to be some sort of special brand of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky.

“Apparently it makes your ears smoke,” James says, looking way too excited.

Remus is only listening to their conversation about how drunk they are going to get on this in just a moment with half an ear, too distracted by the present he just unwrapped. The present from Sirius. It’s a journal, leather-bound, one of the most beautiful things Remus has ever held in his hands, really.

Sirius slides up to him and whispers, “Open it.”

Remus does and finds that Sirius has written _Merry Christmas_ on the first page and has drawn a big black dog at the bottom of the page. Sirius pokes at the dog and it barks and wags his tail. Remus laughs. “Thank you.” He’s sure that he’ll never be able to open that journal without looking at that page first.

A lot more thank yous are exchanged before they put their presents aside and Sirius opens the extra special Firewhisky that Remus is sure will kill them all, hopefully just metaphorically.

It takes Remus only one sip to tell that this really isn’t regular Firewhisky. It’s the good kind and it seems to be about twice as strong at whatever else they’ve been drinking up until now. It also turns out that James was right about it making people’s ear’s smoke. It does, quite literally.

“This is…” James looks down at this glass, apparently lost for words.

“Wow,” Sirius says.

“I think I need to lie down,” Peter mutters and does exactly that, looking up at the Christmas tree that’s practically right above his face with an amazed expression. “This stuff is unreal.”

Remus can’t help but agree. His face feels hot and everything seems a bit fuzzy around the edges. He’s surprised that there’s no smoke coming out of his nostrils when he breathes. He’s also not sure if he could stand up if he wanted to; he has a feeling that he’d fall right over if he tried.

“You okay there, Moony?” Sirius asks, a wicked smile on his face.

“It’s rather strong, isn’t it?” Remus says, very well aware that it comes out a bit garbled.

James groans. “I think I made a huge mistake.”

“What’s that, then?” Sirius asks. His glass is still half full. Half empty. Doesn’t matter. Remus realises that he shouldn’t have drunk his own so quickly.

“I just drank this,” James slurs, “and I’m supposed to spend the entire day tomorrow with Lily’s family and I don’t think I can… I can’t speak. I don’t know how to get up. She’s going to kill me.” He starts giggling. “Pads, pour me another one, will you?” 

Sirius does, despite the warning look Remus shoots him, and Sirius sticks out his tongue at him and all Remus wants to do is kiss him, and he’s not even sure how exactly he’s ever supposed to think of anything else. Sirius has nice lips, very nice, but Remus can’t kiss him right now, not until they’re alone. He feels himself frowning, wondering how on earth he’s lost control over both his face and his entire brain thanks to just one glass of hellish Firewhisky.

He watches as James lifts his head enough to down yet another glass of it. Remus turns to Sirius and says, “He’s going to hate us for this tomorrow.”

“So worth it,” Sirius mutters and winks at him.

Five minutes later, James and Sirius are sloppily waltzing around Peter, who is still lying on the floor, cheering them on until James tries to dip Sirius and they both crash-land on top of him.

Sirius quickly untangles himself and comes scooting over to Remus. “Fancy a dance?”

“No, thank you, I just witnessed first hand how dancing with you ends,” Remus says.

Sirius pretends to pout and leans back against the wall with a sigh. “You have no idea what you’re missing.”

James, in the meantime, has rolled off Peter, but seems to be opposed to moving ever again. “I have so many regrets.”

“You know, McKinnon told me about this _fantastic_ potion, apparently it’s the best hangover cure that exists. We should try that tomorrow. I wrote it down. Should still be in the kitchen somewhere unless Minerva ate it.”

Remus sincerely hopes that Professor McGonagall will never find out that Sirius has named the plant that grows out of his windowsill after her.

“You’re…” James ends up giving him a thumbs up. “No more talking.” He groans and crawls over to the sofa very, very slowly, hoisting himself up with the greatest effort. “I’m just going to stay here for the time being, I think that’s a good idea, yes.”

Remus shakes his head at him, which makes his brain wobble around in his head in the most unpleasant way. He screws his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. A moment later, something tugs at his jumper.

It doesn’t take him too long to figure out that it’s Sirius who’s doing the tugging. “What’re you doing?” Remus asks.

“Come ‘ere,” Sirius says and tugs again.

“But…” Remus nods at their friends. Right, no more jerky head movements from now on.

“Pete’s asleep, look, he’s drooling,” Sirius says lowly.

Remus moves a little closer to Sirius, his eyes on James. “What about Prongs?”

“Prongs, d’you want some more of that excellent Firewhisky?” Sirius asks and bunches up some wrapping paper to toss at James’ head.

“Piss off,” James mumbles, sounding like he’s half-asleep already, and turns over.

“Just you and me, then,” Sirius says and pulls Remus against him, arms firmly wrapped around him, his nose pressed into the back of Remus’ neck. “You should come by more often.”

“Isn’t James entertaining enough?”

“Nah, he just talks about Evans a lot,” Sirius mutters. “Anyway, he’s no good when it comes to certain kinds of entertainment.”

“Don’t you think he might consider it weird if the two of us just vanished into your room for Merlin knows how long?”

“You won’t believe it, but I have indeed thought about that issue.”

“And did you come up with an adequate solution?” Remus asks, rather proud of himself that he still knows how to use words like _adequate_.

“We could always tell him. And Peter.”

Remus hums. “Yes, there’s always that option.” He sighs. He feels hot and tired and wants nothing more than to go to bed, but he also wants to stay right here, leaning against Sirius.

“What?”

“It’s hot,” Remus whispers.

“Do forgive me,” Sirius says. Remus can feel him smirk against his skin.

“I’m wearing two jumpers,” Remus says dryly.

Sirius toys with the hem of one of the jumpers. “Can’t wait to get those off of you.”

Remus pulls his hand away, but keeps his fingers curled around Sirius’. “So, are we going to do it? Tell them, I mean.”

“Actually, I think James…” The words sound like they’re heavy on his tongue. “He knows that something is going on. The other day he asked if I was seeing anyone. Because I never bring anyone home, you know? And he said, ‘If there is anyone, you can tell me, Pads, whoever it is’. Said he’d get out of the way if I ever wanted the flat to myself and, well, someone else. Dunno if he thinks it’s you, but yeah. What I’m saying is, he might not be too surprised if we do end up telling him.”

“All right,” Remus says. He’s pretty sure that it’s a bad sign that he’s feeling terrified all of a sudden. “We’ll do it, then. Soon.”

“We will,” Sirius says. He kisses the nape of his neck, noses along his spine, the hand that’s currently not trapped in Remus’ is wandering up and down his thigh very slowly.

Remus has no idea how he’s doing all of those things at the same time. He squirms, his eyes on their friends. Peter is letting out the occasional snore and James hasn’t moved ever since he turned away from them. Sirius’ teeth graze his skin and Remus makes a sound low in his throat that seems much too loud in the quiet of the room.

Sirius laughs. Remus is too tired to admonish him, so he tilts his head back to kiss the line of his jaw, which earns him a soft sigh.

“What are we going to tell them?” Remus asks. He can’t imagine the conversation, he doesn’t even know where he’d start.

“Something like this…” Sirius clears his throat. “It was a cold and crisp December morning when Remus Lupin showed up on my doorstep. He looked unbelievably dashing in his horrid Christmas jumper and I knew immediately that I couldn’t let yet another day go by without snogging the living daylights out of him.” He pauses. “That was…”

“Almost a year ago,” Remus finishes for him. “Yeah.”

“And many more snogs were conducted in the year ahead,” Sirius continued, “behind drawn curtains and in stuffy broom cupboards, far away from prying eyes.”

“Maybe we should be a little more straightforward,” Remus says.

“What, like, ‘Hey, Prongs, did you know that Moony and I have been–’” Sirius waves his free hand. “You know.”

“Dating,” Remus suggests, although it’s really not the right word for it. “No, how about…”

“Partaking in naked shenanigans?”

“I think he might misunderstand if you put it like that.”

“No, _we_.”

“What?”

“You said _you_ ,” Sirius says, “as in _me_. If we tell them, it’s going to be the both of us there.”

“I just thought you might want to be the one to tell Prongs. He’s your best friend.”

“Both of us,” Sirius says insistently. “We’ll find a good time for it. Maybe we can tell James and Peter at the same time. Do you think we should tell them at the same time? Do you think we should be having this conversation while both of them are in the room? I mean, they’re pretty dead to the world, but…” Sirius trails off into a yawn. “Actually, I want to be dead to the world, too.”

“Bed?” Remus asks.

“Only if you’re coming,” Sirius replies.

Remus smiles and scrambles to his feet, swaying slightly. Sirius follows suit, but there’s nothing slight about his swaying. Remus catches him by the arm, then he points his wand at Peter and carefully levitates him into the armchair next to the sofa. He extinguishes the lights of the tree with another flick of his wand.

“Can you levitate me to bed?” Sirius asks and wraps his arms around him from behind.

Remus drags him along until they reach the stairs, then he pries off Sirius’ arms and succeeds at pushing him up the steps, as uncooperative as he is. Once they’ve reached the top, Sirius crowds him against a wall without much of a warning and kisses him like he’s been wanting to do nothing but this all evening. It’s messy and heated and Remus practically melts against the wall. This time, he doesn’t push Sirius’ hands away when they start to wander.

Eventually, Sirius stills, his thumbs rubbing circles against Remus’ skin, his breath coming quickly. They just stand there, their foreheads resting together, their lips almost brushing.

“There are things I want to do with you,” Sirius says matter-of-factly. “ _Things_ , Moony. Great things. But I think I’m even too out of it to walk to my own room right now.”

Remus takes a deep breath and lets his head fall back against the wall. His limbs feel heavy, his eyelids, too. They’ll have enough time for those _things_ tomorrow when James is gone. Remus’ parents aren’t excepting to show up until the late afternoon and he doubts that Sirius will let him go without being a pain in the ass. Maybe he could take him home for dinner.

They stumble into Sirius’ bedroom and Sirius kicks the door shut behind them before he makes his way over to Remus and then peels off his jumpers, both of them at the same time. He grins broadly. “Told you I’d get those off of you. I’ve done my duty,” Sirius says and begins to discard his own clothes. He sends them flying all over the room and nearly falls over twice.

Remus watches the spectacle with amusement and thankfully manages to get out of his trousers without any major injuries. He picks up one of Sirius old Muggle band shirts that is slung over a chair and pulls it on before he slips into bed.

Sirius looks only slightly disappointed when he joins Remus in bed and finds that he’s wearing a shirt. “Really?”

“You’ll be fast asleep in about five minutes and you won’t care whether or not I’m wearing a shirt,” Remus says flatly. He’s never liked sleeping shirtless, unlike Sirius who never wears more clothes than strictly necessary. Confidence isn’t something that comes naturally to Remus. He knows that there’s no reason to hide any part of himself around Sirius, but old habits die hard.

“There’s a lot we can do in five minutes,” Sirius says and inches closer, his arm sneaking around Remus’ waist. He yawns heartily and nuzzles against him.

Remus has a feeling that they at least won’t be doing anything of significance in the next five minutes. He kisses the top of Sirius’ head and pulls up the covers. “Just go to sleep.” Remus intends to do the same. If there’s one thing he needs, it’s a good night’s sleep. He can’t even remember the last time he’s slept for a solid eight hours.

Sirius mumbles something that Remus doesn’t catch because he’s mumbling it straight into his shirt. “What did you say?”

“I said,” Sirius lifts his head and Remus can see him smiling in the dim light that filters in through the window, “thanks for the jumper.”

“So you like it? I thought you might want to have your own so you can stop stealing mine.”

“’Course I like it.”

“I’m sorry that it’s just…”

“What?” Sirius asks.

“Just a jumper,” Remus says lowly. He wishes he could have given Sirius something less bland.

Sirius leans closer, his nose bumping against Remus’ cheek. “It’s not _just_ a jumper.”

“It is and you know it,” Remus says.

“You’ll have to wear it, too,” Sirius mumbles. “So it’s a Moony jumper.”

Remus laughs quietly. It didn’t occur to him until just now that Sirius keeps stealing his jumpers not only because Sirius barely has any of his own, but also because they’re _his_ jumpers. “All right.”

“I’m glad that you’re willing to cooperate.”

“And you’re sure you like it?”

“Shut up, Moony, I love you.” Sirius stiffens for a moment. “I mean _it_ ,” he adds quickly.

Remus hopes that Sirius can’t see him smiling. “Right, of course.”

“Of course,” Sirius echoes, pointedly, and buries his face in the crook of Remus’ neck.

They never speak of it again.


End file.
